


Chaotically Angelic

by LadybugsFanfics



Series: Ineffable Husbands [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Adorable, Florist Crowley, Good Omens AU, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Tattooist/Florist AU, They are so cute, i wouldnt normally call it that because it is barely anything but these are them so its like a lot, it features some pda, it is very cute, lunch together, tattoist aziraphale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 07:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19421737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: Snippets from Aziraphale and Crowleys married lives. This mulitchapther is what goes on in the tattoo shop that is Aziraphale's. Every POV will be from Aziraphale's more or less.Please read the first part of the series, Ineffable Husbands, so to get a little better grasp on the premise of the series. You don't have to, and none of these chapters really has to be read in order.update: either on hiatus or discontinued, i wouldnt be expecting a lot more





	Chaotically Angelic

“Lunch, my dear, lunch.” Aziraphale stares shocked at his husband. “What on Earth did you think I meant?” 

Crowley shrugs. “Ngk… I don’t know,” he gestures in the air, “maybe something… I don’t know.” He looks away from Aziraphale, who smiles rather amused at Crowley. 

“Well,” he says and places a tray of sandwiches on the little table in the back room of the shop, “that is what I meant. And you promised to bring something to drink. Is it really that hard?” 

“...Yeah.” The florist scans the room. “I’ll just go upstairs and bring some.” 

“Don’t use too long.” Aziraphale says as Crowley goes into their apartment to get something to drink. “But don’t take the wine. We’ll have guests this evening and it took a long time to find that wine,” he yells after him, knowing the man usually prefers wine with any food. 

Crowley comes back a few minutes later. In his hands, he carries a jug of water. It nearly sloshes over as he puts it down on the table. “Happy?” he asks, which to anyone else would seem rude but to Aziraphale is only a gesture of love (he takes what he can get). 

The tattooist rubs his hands together with a smile. “Yes, very.” 

They both sit down to eat. Generally, they eat in silence. Aziraphale has already noticed that might not be the case this day, as Crowley is in a slightly restless mood. 

“Do you… uh, do you have any appointments later in the day?” 

Aziraphale nods. “Yes. One at eleven and one at one fifteen. Why?” He takes a bite of the sandwich and looks expectantly at his husband. 

“Nah, was just thinkin’ we close up early.” Crowley waves his hand, brushing the thought away. 

“For what purpose exactly?” Aziraphale purses his lips. He has a hope as to what Crowley is going to say. 

The florist, on the other hand, doesn’t answer. He looks at the stack of sandwiches, avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze. The latter gives him time, instead using his energy on eating and knowing one of the customers coming in later (his one fifteen appointment) has never taken a tattoo before. Aziraphale loves it when they come to him, especially with such requests as the one he had for that one. 

Crowley makes some noise where he sits, regaining Aziraphale’s attention. “I was thinking…” He coughs. “What if we take the day off tomorrow?”

“Why?”

Aziraphale’s husband shifts in his seat. “Nah, no reason, really. We could sleep in, have breakfast together, so on. Lazy day.”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale says the name in such a loving tone he can see the other man blush slightly, then shake his head and hope it wasn’t noticed. “We eat breakfast together every day. Other than the one appointment I have at noon tomorrow that sounds lovely.”

The florist nods approvingly. “Sure.” To keep from the moment he reaches for a sandwich, takes one bite and puts it down on his plate. It lies there untouched until Aziraphale coughs (read: says he should eat). 

They spend the next minutes in silence. Both content with just being in each others company. Crowley even took off his sunglasses. And for a long while they just sit there, lovingly staring at each other. 

Aziraphale takes in the beauty of his husband. The messy bun atop his head he always has a comment about but secretly loves―dragging his fingers through the soft hair is moments he appreciates drealy as Crowley rarely lets him. He takes in the beautiful eyes of his husband; the small wrinkles around them, the warmth they emit as they lock eyes and just look at each other. Aziraphale can’t help but smile. 

The bell at the door of the tattoo shop rings, signaling a new customer. Crowley jerks his head in the direction whilst Aziraphale keeps his blue eyes trained on his husband. With a slight realization that they are, in fact, in his shop, he gets out of his chair and walks into the little waiting area of his shop. 

A woman stands by the coffee table. Her gaze scans the room and Aziraphale puts on his best smile as he greets her. “Hello,” he says. “Do you have an appointment?” 

The woman purses her lips. Nods slowly. “At eleven,” she says. “I’m in no hurry, though.” 

Aziraphale only smiles brighter. “Can I bid you something whilst you wait? Water? Coffee? Tea?” He motions to the coffee table, “and please, help yourself to some biscuits.” 

“Actually, coffee would be nice.” She sits down in the chair. A look of surprise flashes across her face. It is gone quickly, but Aziraphale noticed. He also notes how her fingers trace the spines of one of the books on top of a stack, and smiles brightly as he goes to make her coffee. 

Where the tattooist left him, his husband sits in his chair around the small lunch table. As Aziraphale walks past him and to the coffee maker, he lets out a huff. The tattooist rolls his eyes slightly. “Oh, Crowley, don’t be foolish,” he says as he pours the coffee. “I already told you I had an appointment at eleven.” 

The florist stares unhappily at him. “Yeah, yeah. Dunt matter anyway, I’ve probably been gone too long.” Crowley stands up from his chair and walks over to where Aziraphale stands, a mug of hot coffee in his hand. 

Crowley leans over to kiss his husband, but the latter shoos him away. “Careful,” he says, “this is hot.” And before Crowley gets to take the mug away from him to get his goodbye kiss, the tattooist walks away to deliver it to his customer. Slightly annoyed, Crowley saunters after. 

“Here you go.” Aziraphale puts down the coffee cup next to the woman. “I almost forgot. My name is Aziraphale. Have you ever gotten a tattoo before?” 

The woman frowns slightly, but quickly recovers from the slight shock. “Oh, well. Uhh, no, I haven’t. I was told this was the best place to go when I got my first.”

Aziraphale beams. “Oh, I love it when that happens. Don’t you worry the least bit. It will be slightly uncomfortable, it will possibly hurt a little bit, but it does pay off. And after it’s done there is usually nothing but happiness.” 

“Don’t scare the poor woman,” says Crowley. 

“One moment,” the tattooist says and turns to face his husband. “What is it, dear?”

Crowley rolls his eyes. “I have to get back to work.” He shudders at the statement, but beckons Aziraphale closer. “Uggh, just let me say goodbye.” Aziraphale chuckles slightly, smiles at his husbands cute antics and leans in. Their lips meet in a quick peck (that being all either of them is ever willing to display in public). 

“Bye, angel.” The florist says. Crowleys is out the door in a matter of seconds and Aziraphale smiles happily as he turns back to his customer. Had he been slightly faster to turn, he would have been able to see the slight shock on her face, but when he did face her, she had already regained her composure. 

“Now, shall we begin?” The tattooist clasps his hands together and beams at the lady, who nods―though with a slight half-terrified expression. “What would you like?” 


End file.
